


Because We're Here

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'May I request an imagine where The Monkees see you cry for the first time?'Micky and Peter are nice boys, aren't they?





	Because We're Here

“ _…don’t bother coming home_.”

The phone hangs up before you can respond, and you stare at the handset. You feel bizarrely numb – well, it saves on plane tickets, you think, quietly, and then put the handset down, quietly, before sinking down into your seat. Well. Christmas is cancelled. How very… numb. Numb. Numb. Numb. The word is throbbing in your head like a heartbeat.

“ _(Y/N)?_ ”

Oh. It’s your housemate. She’s back from wherever the hell she was – she’s a music journalist, so probably being a successful, awesome person, with life goals, and all that shite you really just cannot bring yourself to experience an emotion about. Wonderful.

“ _Are you here?_ ”

“Yuh-huh,” you say, tonelessly.

“ _I have company!_ ”

Whoop-whoop. Even better. You just sit there, at the kitchen table, and she runs in, kissing the side of your head affectionately.

“Sorry, babes, I got a meeting to go to, but my friends are gonna be here,” she gushes. “It’s just Micky and Peter, it’s fine, Davy will be coming around later…” Wait, what? As in, Micky-Peter-Davy of  _The Monkees_? Oh, fucking  _yippee_. You want to be seen like this after meeting them… what. Once? Twice? “Just keep ‘em amused, okay, I’ll be back in a half hour, I  _swear_.”

“Sure, babe,” you say, quietly, and she runs out again. She doesn’t mean to be completely careless and inconsiderate. She’s just wired that way – you’ll tell her later.

“Hey, (Y/N)… it is (Y/N), right?”

That’s Micky. You turn around, and smile. You’re pretty sure you look like an alien in a skin-suit when you do it, but he grins back, and saunters around you. You are suddenly hyper-aware of your shitty little kitchen, but again, that’s a thing for the real you, later, to care about. Peter is just behind him, and he waves politely, before taking the seat that Micky hasn’t.

“Looking forward to Christmas, (Y/N)?”

“Plans just changed,” you say, and Peter nods.

“I find plans around this time of year very rarely stay stable,” he says, and you lean back, content that you have managed to use words in a proficient way to make them not talk to you any more without seeming rude. Great. Now you have to figure out a way to lie to your roommate…

“…well, Micky, we can’t…”

“…probably some big family thing with the folks…”

You shake your head a little. It would have been a big family thing at your house as well. Still presumably will be, but just without you, all because you dared to move out of the family home and make your own way.

 _Numb. Numb. Numb_.

Your lip begins to wobble.

“…see my siblings, Micky, it’s always nice…”

You remember the presents you have for your family, and you feel a hot lump of emotion build up in your chest, blocking your airways. Why are these people here? Why are they in your house, when you don’t get to be in your family’s house this Christmas…?

_Numb. Numb…_

“Well, Pete, it’s a time for family. Don’t you agree, (Y/N)?”

_No._

You burst into hysterical sobs, and Micky and Peter stare at you in confused horror. You just can’t keep it in – what a time for the goddamn barrier to burst, you think, but your body is wracked with sobs, and you lay your head on the table. Hopefully, they will just go away. Far away.

“(Y/N)?”

A hand rests gently on your shoulder, and you shake your head.  _God, pull yourself together, you daft cow._  You sit up, and Micky is staring at you. You presume Peter is, as well, but you shake your head,

“I’m sorry…” You intend to calmly and rationally excuse yourself, but what actually happens is you start sobbing again, and this time, Micky pulls you into a hug; Peter starts to gently stroke your shoulders, and you whimper a little, clinging onto the curly-haired man.  _These are famous TV guys…!_  you scold yourself. You need to stop, you need to…

“Okay. Right. What happened,” Peter says, quietly, and you explain exactly what happened.  _They don’t care. Oh my god, shut up_ , you think to yourself, but they nod understandingly, and Peter puts his arm around you.

“I’m so sorry,” Micky says, sounding genuinely upset for you. “We never would’a come back… does (Y/HM/N) know?!” You shake your head, quickly – you’d never want to get your housemate in trouble. “Oh, hon, we’re so sorry…”

“What are you going to do now?” Peter asked, and you shrug, tears springing to your eyes again. “Okay. Would you like something to drink?” You shake your head, and then after he gives you a Look that cuts past your shield, you nod. “Do you have tea?”

“You are worthwhile. Just because they don’t want you there, doesn’t make you the bad person,” Micky says, taking your hands, and you flush deep red. “Seriously. You want to come and see me on Christmas Day? ‘cause I will make time for you. If you want.”

“Wow, Micky, that was quick,” Peter says sardonically, and then squeezes your shoulder. “But seriously. We can make time.”

“You guys don’t even know me,” you say, almost inaudible. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you don’t deserve this,” Micky answers promptly, and you can’t help but feel a little smile cross your face, even as the lump of sadness in your throat refuses to dissipate. “You seem like a nice kid, and you don’t deserve this at Christmas, and… we’re here. So we should do something.”

“Kid? She’s your age, Micky…” Peter grabs a mug. “Now. Let’s cheer you up before Davy gets here, or he’s gonna make you a cup of English tea, and god knows if you can cope with that…” You giggle, and as the two talk between themselves again, you relax a little. Maybe these guys aren’t so bad, after all...


End file.
